


The Best-Laid Plans

by neevebrody



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bad Sex, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tried to come up with a real zinger, but again, "You think?" was the best he could do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best-Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the bad!sex challenge at dontbendthatway - set in Season 3 after The Game  
> Prompt: Waking your significant other up with a blowjob is not always a good idea, and explaining the concussion/broken nose/dislocated jaw/injury of choice to the medics can be embarrassing.

Rodney blinked awake.  It was still very early, still very dark.  He didn't often stay, but it was nice to wake up in the warm tangle of John's limbs, and at this point, still in the sleep-laden stupor of satiety, the soft purr of John's breathing soothing in his ear, he couldn't be bothered to untangle himself.  He did manage, however, to pull his arm into a position to check the time.  They'd only been asleep a few hours.  Rodney closed his eyes and drifted off again.

The next time he woke, he was still tangled up in John, but this time they were facing each other, John's face inches from his.  He pulled back a little to get a good look.  Jesus, John was beautiful anyway, but like this – sleep-tousled, arms and legs akimbo, even that thin stream of drool, a gossamer thread anchoring him to the pillow – Rodney would never tire of this.

The laziness of this time of morning, with the softness of the Lantean light – a warm grayish brown, not quite light, but not still dark was Rodney's favorite.  He'd done some of his best work, and on the nights he stayed, they'd had some of their best sex at this time.  Rodney yawned.  He had a morning erection and the urgent need to relieve his bladder.  Carefully untangling himself, he got up and padded to the bathroom.

Standing there he thought of last night's sex, how just when it seemed they had it down, perfect, the next time would be even better and that made his chest tighten a little.  He and John had both always tried to be open, always making sure one knew what the other wanted, what they liked.  Rodney was always happy to accommodate, except there was this one thing—

Rodney slipped back into bed as carefully as he'd left it.  His thigh brushed against John's own morning salute and that helped to cement his decision.  Shifting his weight, he tried to get into position without waking John.  No small feat in the munchkin beds of lumbosacral doom.

He stealthily worked his way to where he could get John's cock in his mouth.  He thought he could just do it, even with John lying on his side.  He silently, slowly placed his hand on John's hip and bent to it.  Rodney could feel it harden even more once in his mouth.  One, two long pulls and—

He heard the crunch before he felt it—before the pain exploded in his face, from his jaw right up to beneath his eyes—before the stars swam and his peripheral vision apertured down to a pinpoint—before he tasted the blood flowing from his nose—before John's screams—before John jerked his knee away.

He pretty much knew from the moment the pain started that things weren't going as planned.  Hands were pushing him away.  John was still screaming, cursing – of course, that might have had more to do with a thoroughly bitten dick than anything else.

"Jesus Christ, Rodney.  Oh God, I'm sorry.  Are you—are you all right?"

Rodney hurt too much to offer up one of his long-suffering looks, so he just stared at John.  "No," was the best he could do because _fuck_, broken jaw here, not to mention broken nose.

"God, Rodney, you're bleeding—your nose," John pointed as he stood up.

He tried to come up with a real zinger, but again, "You think?" was the best he could do.  Rodney looked down.  The bed linens were splotched with blood, quickly changing color from that deep, rich scarlet to a duller, drabber brownish-red.

"I'm sorry, Rodney.  I'm—but what the fuck?  What were you—"

"I was trying to wake you up with a blowj—"  The rest of Rodney's explanation was hijacked by the lightning bolts shooting through his jaw.  Oh God, not talking was not something he did well, at all.

John's face softened a little.  "C'mon, we need to get you to the infirmary.  Here."  He handed Rodney his clothes from the floor – he was still cradling his dick.

Rodney nodded and mumbled, "Does that hurt?  You okay?"

John's brows crinkled in impossible positions for eyebrows.  "Hell yeah, it hurts."  But then a little grin broke through.  "Let's just hope you never, ever get really pissed at me, or take up any of Ronon's habits—like sleeping with knives."

"Oh please."  He watched as John very carefully pulled on his pants.  He turned around to dress and, stepping into his khaki's, felt something warm and wet hit his shoulder.  "Thanks," he mumbled, taking the warm cloth and wiping the blood from his face.

He stole a glance at John's alarm clock – 5:34 a.m.  His brain immediately began compensating for Pegasus time – John kept his clock set to Earth time.  Any way he looked at it, it was still too damn early for a broken jaw.

~~~~

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—what do you mean Carson's not here—Ungh."

"Rodney, don't talk," John chided.  "Where's Beckett?"

"Colonel, you know full well he's on M47-327.  He and Teyla took a team for inoculations.  You approved the mission yourself.  They aren't due to return—"

"—until tomorrow," John finished Biro's sentence.

John turned to Rodney.  Rodney thought he looked a little pale, but then one probably did after having their dick bitten—violently.  Rodney shuddered.  He looked from John to Biro.  She was standing there with hands on hips, like she was waiting for an explanation.  Christ, Biro of all people.

She took Rodney's elbow and dragged him to one of the examination tables.  John helped him up.  His nose had begun to bleed again.  Biro handed him some gauze and held her head back, miming holding her nose.  "Now, what happened here?"

John and Rodney exchanged looks.

"I fell out of bed—"

"An accident, I kicked him—" they both said at once, looking at one another then back at Biro.

She squinted at them, waited.

"An accident, he—"

"He fell out of bed—"

Biro did not look happy.  "You boys haven't been doing anything you aren't supposed to, have you?"

Both Rodney and John suddenly resembled a couple of owls on hearing their nightly meals skittering nearby.

"You know, that gameroom…you haven't been up all night—"

"It was an accident," John said, "he fell out of bed."

"After you kicked him?" she asked.

Rodney shook his head vehemently.  Jesus, his jaw hurt.  "Can we just get to the matter at hand here?  I think my jaw's broken, and my nose," he managed.  "Does it really matter at this point how it—Ungh!"

"Nonsense, Doctor McKay, if you had a broken jaw, you couldn't talk without pain," she said.

Rodney felt his face flush.  "I can't talk without pain," he gritted out between his teeth.

She patted him on the shoulder.  "Lie back here and let's get a scan." 

Rodney closed his eyes as the green light from the scanner pored over his head and neck.

"So, Colonel.  You were with McKay?"

"No—no, uh, I was going for a run, happened to be passing his quarters—I heard him cry out."  Biro stared at him.  John glanced at Rodney who was making a back and forth motion with his hand – the intergalactic signal for _shut the fuck up_.

"Oh, Doctor McKay, you can sit up now," Biro said.  Adjusting her glasses, she examined the data from the scan.

Rodney sat up and glared at John, who shrugged in his best _What?_ posture.  Rodney rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at John's feet.  John's _boots_ were only partially laced and one wasn't even tied.  Still, he _had_ managed to strap on his thigh holster – probably out of habit.  He looked up at Rodney, his face reddening.

"Well, you were partially right, McKay," Biro announced.  "Your jaw isn't broken, just dislocated and that septum is badly bruised – no breaks there either.  But…the jaw's going to have to be reset and wired, temporarily."  Rodney blanched.  "It won't be pleasant," she added, but at least it'll be quick, just get in there, snap 'er back into place, no problem – it'll just hurt for a little bit, right?"  She patted his knee.  If there was any color left in his face, Rodney felt it drain away. 

~~~~

John headed for Elizabeth's office – better to go ahead and let her in on what happened before she found out on her own.  He was only a little surprised to find her already there.  He checked his watch; he'd spent more time in the infirmary than he thought.  He'd beat a hasty retreat as soon as Rodney mentioned that he might want to get looked at too.  No way was Biro handling _that_ situation – not to mention having the opportunity to put two and two together and come up with Colonel Sheppard has teeth marks on his privates and McKay has a dislocated jaw.  Nope, there would never be a right time for that.  Actually, there were no breaks in the skin, just bruised, and he promised Rodney he'd make sure to see Carson as soon as he returned, although he still wasn't sure how he was going to explain it.

As he walked into the office, Elizabeth closed her laptop and greeted him.  He mumbled his good morning and tried to come up with a good lead-in.

"John, I'm glad you're here.  Can I have a word first?

He shrugged.  "Sure."

"You know, we have rules and regulations here and I've always thought they were fair to everyone."

John stared, not sure where this was going.

"You and Rodney seem to think the rules don't apply to you.  Maybe because of your positions as senior staff, you think you can somehow circumvent—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—just a minute.  Exactly what are we talking about here?  I came by to tell you about what happened to McKay this morning, and—"

"That is what I'm talking about."

_Oh, shit._

"I just received an email from Doctor Biro," she continued, "advising me of Rodney's 'accident.'  Now what I'd like from you is the truth about how it happened."

John swallowed.  "Is that really necessary?"

Elizabeth looked exasperated.  "John, you know that I have to report everything that goes on here.  I not only report to the SGC, but to the IOA as well, and when I'm looking at the possibility of two of my senior staff members flagrantly disobeying the rules, especially rules I've set into place, I—"

"Rules you've—I'm sorry, maybe it would be easier if you tell me what rules you're talking about."

She exhaled loudly.  "The gameroom.  I specifically asked for that room to be sealed and ordered you two especially not—"

"This has nothing to do with the gameroom," John said, finally taking a breath.

"You and Rodney didn't stay up all night?  You two didn't get into a fight over the game—you didn't hit Rodney?"

John knew his laughter was somewhat inappropriate; it just seemed to come with the wave of relief sweeping over him.  "Biro?" he asked.

~~~~~

Ronon set his mess tray down on Rodney's table.  "You mind?"

Rodney looked annoyed but waved his hand.  His subtle facial cues and nuances of voice never seemed to have much influence on the Satedan anyway.

"You really delight in this, don't you?" Rodney asked, talking a long pull on the straw in his milkshake.  Ronon responded by taking a large bite out of the steak he had speared on his fork—smiling and chewing.  "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go eat with the other carnivores…just for today?"

"Suck it up, McKay—might be good for you."

Rodney's eyebrows shot skyward, accompanied by the signature McKay eye-roll.

"You need to muscle up.  A little less food, a little more sparring."  He took another bite.

"Hmm, yes, well—geniuses have brains," he said, pointing to himself, "brains need to be fed, my brain needs food."  He looked down at his tray and frowned.  "Real food."  It had been like this for a week now.  He'd figured out the talking soon enough, even though it was still hard to understand him sometimes, but eating was a different story.

Ronon eyed him, still chewing.  "I'm just saying."  He shrugged.

"And don't think I don't appreciate your concern.  I'll keep it in mind," he said, moving on to the applesauce, trying to figure out how to get it inside his mouth.  Maybe if he held his head back and let it drip off the spoon?

He jumped as a hand clapped him on the back.  "How's it goin' guys?"

Rodney waved his hand at Ronon.  "Arnold Schwarzenegger here was just remarking on how having my jaw wired together is a wonderful opportunity for me to 'muscle-up', I believe those were your words—"

Ronon nodded and looked over Rodney's head.  He picked up his tray.  "Later."

"Hey, Ronon…I did—I didn't mean—"  He watched John take Dex's vacated chair.  "Oh, I see.  You made him leave.  Honestly, I'm a big boy now, though you wouldn't know it from these damn straws, don't they have any big people straws here—Jesus, I'm getting a headache _and_ a hernia trying to get—" 

John stared at him blankly, a slightly bemused expression on his face.

"Yes, as I was saying—I can take some ribbing, there's no need to play the mother hen.  After all, all this is my fault," he said, again trying to suck some of the milkshake through the straw.

John shrugged.  "I know.  Sometimes Ronon just doesn't know when enough is enough and you've still got, what, a couple of weeks?  I don't need you stabbing Ronon, or anyone else, here in the mess.  That means paperwork, and you know I hate paperwork."  He grinned.

Rodney smiled back and nodded.  "I guess you'll just have to make sure I stay nice and calm over the next few weeks then, hmm?"  He was still looking at John but his eyes held something heavier now, more meaningful.

John mimicked the look.  "Yeah."  He started to reach out, but caught himself.  He got up and squeezed Rodney's shoulder instead – on the pretense of slapping him on the back again.  "See you later," he said, leaving Rodney to finish his _meal_.

~~~~

"Nngh – mmmm – John – nnnggh!"  Even without his jaw wired together, that was usually the extent of Rodney articulation as John worked his mouth over Rodney's cock, pulling his load from him in that way only John could.  With one hand clutching the sheet and the other fisted in John's hair, Rodney's toes curled tight against the balls of his feet, every muscle in his body tensed as he arched, the space behind his eyes filled with blinding white as he came.  Then, as John stayed with him, milking every last drop, he relaxed, sinking further and further into the mattress.

It was a real bitch not being able to fully express your appreciation to your lover – verbally or any other way.  What little noise Rodney could make pained his jaw and reciprocation was out of the question.  He reached down to run his hand through John's hair.  "Jesus, that—that was—"  He felt John's lips curl in the crook of his thigh.

They lay there in silence for a long while – John absently stroking Rodney's hip and Rodney trying not to move when it tickled.  "I'm sorry—sorry I can't—"

John shushed him.  "'s okay, Rodney.  And, thank you."

"For what?"

"I appreciate what you were trying to do, you know."

"Yeah, well."

"I guess it's just one of those things that sound good—until you actually do it.  Just next time, let's make sure I'm a little more awake."

"Sort of defeats the whole purpose, then, doesn't it?"

"I'll pretend to be asleep," he said, rubbing little circles on Rodney's thigh.

Rodney snorted a laugh.  "Whatever you say.  It looks like you're going to be taking care of the blowjobs for awhile."

"Gladly.  But you're really gonna owe me, McKay."   

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: velocitygrass


End file.
